


Bad Decisions

by TheseusInTheMaze



Series: Bad Decisions [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, F/F, Hair-pulling, Loss of Virginity, References to Past Thirteen/Missy, Semi-Public Sex, Strap-Ons, Teacher/Student, Underage Drinking, Vaginal Fingering, age gap, mundane AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:15:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25118992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Yaz just wanted a chance to be around some like minded individuals. She runs into some trouble.
Relationships: Missy/Yasmin Khan, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Series: Bad Decisions [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826224
Comments: 19
Kudos: 110





	Bad Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> This is written entirely based on the idea that I think teacher/student and age gap is hot.

It had started with the fake ID. 

Yaz had never had any particular interest in going to clubs or pubs or anything like that - she hadn't ever gotten the appeal, not really. Beer tasted like shitty yeast piss, loud music gave her headaches, and she wasn't exactly _fond_ of crowds. 

But it was the end of term, and it had been a particularly hellish one. So she had dug up the false ID Ryan had given her all those months ago, squared her shoulders, and decided to go to the city's only lesbian bar. 

At least, she assumed it was the city's only lesbian bar. It was the one she'd heard mentioned in passing, usually accompanied by giggles. 

But if she was going to spend the school year being called gay (and a lot of time _outside_ school alternately daydreaming about and pointedly Not Thinking about girls in her class, her teachers, actresses she saw on the telly, and random women about town) she might as well… test it. 

Loads of girls at school had been going to clubs anyway. This wasn’t any different from any of that. 

That’s what she told herself, as she stood in front of the bar. The pink light was flashing, and it seemed to wash over her like a wave. There was a short line, and she got behind the other two, fiddling with the straps of her purse. She rocked on her heels, and she tried to look nineteen. How did she look nineteen? What did nineteen look like? It was three years older than she was, and she knew what three years younger looked like… sort of.

Maybe.

“ID,” said the bored looking woman in front of Yaz, and she realized with a start that she was now at the front of the line.

_I’m obviously nineteen_ , Yaz wanted to say. _I’m an adult like all of you and I belong here more than I belong at school, you’re like me_. 

Yaz didn’t say anything. She handed over the fake ID, and then it was handed back to her, and she was gestured in.

_That worked?_

Yaz tried not to look too shocked, as she made her way inside. 

It was a bar. There were a lot of women milling around, most of them drinking. Yaz, lacking anything else to do, made her way to the bar. She didn’t have much experience with alcohol, but she’d overheard enough conversations about it. Just ask for something sweet, and go from there.

* * *

Two hours later, Yaz had drunk four of… something that tasted like green apple candy, and the room was spinning. There was a woman sitting next to her, and something about the look in her eye was making Yaz a little nervous.

Nobody else had really noticed her - Yaz was used to being quiet and unnoticed. The sweetness of the drink was enough to make her molars ache, but she liked the fuzziness that swam around her head. 

“That must be an impressive fake ID you’ve got there,” said the woman, and Yaz made a choked off noise, her drink going down the wrong tube.

The woman slapped Yaz on the back, and Yaz managed to wheeze out a “don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Sure you don’t, sure you don’t,” agreed the woman. “You are most definitely a reasonable adult, which is why you’re drinking liquid sugar and look like you’ll run away if someone gives you a sideways glance.” 

“I’m allowed to be here,” Yaz said. She took another slug of her drink, for lack of anything else to say. “They let me in, after all.”

“Maggie at the door barely looks at IDs,” said the woman, her tone dismissive. Her accent was very thick, and her clothes seemed slightly out of place - a little too old fashioned, a little too nice, in a stuffy way. Her hair was tied back, and she had some kind of fancy brooch pinned to her sweater. She leaned in close, and even in the dimness, Yaz could see the deep red of her lipstick. “You’re just a kid playing dress up, aren’t you?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yaz mumbled into her glass. 

“Of course you don’t, poppet,” said Missy. “So what brings you to this neck of the woods? Looking to do some experimenting?” She rested an elbow on the table, rested her chin on her palm.

“Well,” Yaz said, and she cleared her throat. “Um.” 

“Looking for a girlfriend?” The woman reached a hand out, tucked a piece of hair behind Yaz’s ear, let her finger linger.

Yaz was blushing, her whole face going hot. It wouldn’t be visible, in the dim light of the bar. 

“Not what I was planning, no,” Yaz said. 

“But d’you want a girlfriend?” The woman’s hand was coming to rest on Yaz’s knee. 

“Why?” Yaz looked down at the hand on her knee, then into the woman’s eyes. “Are you offering?” 

The woman threw her head back, and she cackled like a witch out of an old cartoon. There was something threatening about the sound, but Yaz couldn’t deny the elegant curve of the other woman’s throat, the dramatic dip of her profile. Her stomach was churning, and that may have been arousal, and may have been the alcohol, but it was all blending together.

It was downright _heady_ , and freeing. Besides, nobody here actually knew her. She wouldn’t have to worry about the rumor mill finding out about whatever it was she was doing. So who cared. 

If everyone at school thought she was doing this sort of thing, why not do it anyway?

“I don’t want to be your girlfriend,” said the woman. “You’re not the type I’d date.” Her hand moved a little farther up Yaz’s leg. 

“You’re feeling me up like we’re dating. I thought you said you didn’t want to be my girlfriend,” Yaz said. She didn’t push the woman’s hand away - if anything, she spread her legs a little wider. Her leg was tingling where it was being touched, and she was _entirely_ too warm. 

“I’m not offering to date you,” the woman said, and now she was smiling. There were _far_ too many teeth in that smile, and they seemed very bright, even in the dark bar. 

“What are you offering, then?” Yaz licked her lips. “I don’t even know your name, y’know.” 

“You’re very cocky, aren’t you, thinking I’m offering you anything,” said the woman. “My name is Missy. And any good person would take you by the hand, lead you home, and lecture you about the dangers of underage drinking.” Missy’s fingers ghosted under the hem of Yaz's skirt, where it rode up her thighs. . 

Yaz licked her lips, which were suddenly very dry, and tasted like sugar. She could feel Missy’s eyes tracking the movement. “I notice you’re not taking me by the hand,” she said, and she was faintly surprised at how confident she sounded, and how _not_ drunk.

The room was spinning, just a bit, and it was a bit like being on a boat. She held on to the stool she was sitting on with one hand, and she stared into Missy’s face.

“Well,” said Missy, and she was still smiling like a predator, “I never said I was a good person, did I?”

* * *

Missy kissed like something out of a movie. 

Yaz wasn't entirely sure what kind of movie, but as she was kissed, she could almost hear the music swelling in the background. She shivered, as her lower lip was nipped, and she sighed, as Missy's hands roamed across her side. It had been a surprise, when she'd stood up to find that she was actually taller than Missy. The woman seemed to project this aura of _tallness_ , and even though she had to stand on tiptoe to kiss Yaz, she was very much the one in control.

They were in a stall in the women's toilet, and it was cramped and smelled like some kind of heavy cleaning solution, although there were worse things it could have smelled like. Missy's fingers were moving to the buttons of Yaz's dress, as Missy's tongue pressed into Yaz's mouth. It was all happening very _fast_ , and Yaz was just sober enough to think that maybe this was a bad idea. Then one small, perfectly manicured hand was sliding into her bra and Missy's sharp little teeth were digging into Yaz's neck.

"If you give me a hickey, my parents... mmm..." Yaz trailed off, as a knee pressed between her legs. She clung to Missy's shoulders, and she spread her legs wider, her head tilted back and her mouth falling open. Missy's lipstick was on her face, smeared across like crayon, and Missy's clever fingers were pinching and rolling her nipple through the lace of her bra.

"You're at the age," Missy murmured, and she pressed her knee up, forcing it up against Yaz's cunt. 

"You don't... know what... age I am," Yaz gasped. She was grinding her hips, and she couldn't seem to _stop_. This was how she masturbated at home, with a pillow wedged between her legs, or her own hand. She let go of Missy's jacket to cover her mouth with one hand, trying to smother any noises as Missy sucked on her pulse point, then moved lower, to her collarbone. Missy had her caged in, trapped against the graffitied wall of the bathroom stall, and Yaz wasn't sure why she was so turned on by the idea. 

Was she turned on by the idea? Or was she just turned on, and it was all whirling together, to leave her weak kneed and panting? She'd never been drunk before, but she didn't think it left people like... this. It would be talked about, right?

There was cool air on her sternum, and then Missy was leaning even further forward, mouthing at the top of her breast through her bra. Her dress must have been unbuttoned, and wouldn't she have noticed that? That felt like something that she would have noticed, especially when her dress was being unbuttoned all the way down to her _navel_. 

"Aren't these lovely?" Missy cooed, and she was kneading Yaz's breasts, pushing the sides of Yaz's dress open. "So glad I've finally got my hands on them." She undid the clasp at the front of Yaz's bra, and pushed the cups to the sides. 

Yaz flushed, and she brought her arms up, in an attempt to cover them. She was stopped pretty quickly by Missy, who grabbed her wrists, pinning them to the wall over her head. 

"Don't ruin my fun," Missy said, and the look she gave Yaz probably shouldn't have resulted in the full body _throb_ it brought on.

And yet.

"Sorry," Yaz mumbled, and then she was being kissed again. Missy's knee was moved from between her legs, and Yaz whimpered, her hips grinding against Missy's. It was a sloppier kiss this time, and her shoulders would start to ache soon, keeping her arms over her head. 

Missy was kneading her breasts, twisting her nipples like they were radio dials. Her lipstick was smeared and her cheeks were flushed, her eyes very dark. "Look at you. Have I stolen your first kiss, dearie?"

"It wasn't stolen," Yaz said, and her voice was thick. It was hard to _think_ , had she ever been this wet? Missy could probably tell - Missy could probably smell it, the way she kept licking her lips. "You weren't my first kiss."

"Oh," said Missy, and she wrinkled her nose. "I guess I'll need another first, then." She let go of Yaz's breasts, to push Yaz's skirt up, then paused. "Hold this," she said, indicating the green fabric.

Yaz held on to the hem of her skirt, and she flushed. She was flashing her _knickers_ to a woman she barely knew. To a woman who didn't even know her name. And this woman - this terrifying woman - could see how wet Yaz was, the way her thighs were slick and sticky with arousal. She was licking her lips as she looked down the line of Yaz's body, from her bare, heaving breasts to her trembling stomach to her wet, wet knickers. 

"Aren't you just a picture of delight," Missy said, and then she made an imperious gesture. "Off with 'em."

"What?" Yaz blinked.

"These." Missy's thumb slipped under the waistband of Yaz's knickers, and tugged them hard enough to make the elastic snap. Yaz winced, but she let go of her skirt, to shove them down around her thighs.

Missy leaned down and pulled them down further. She knelt in front of Yaz, and she tugged Yaz's knickers all the way down, so that the damp fabric was puddled over the tops of Yaz's trainers. "Foot up," she said. 

Yaz did as she was told, setting her foot down after her knickers had been pulled off of her ankle, then lifted her other foot. She watched, still hazy, as her knickers disappeared into Missy's pocket, and then Missy was kissing her mouth again. Missy's palm was up against Yaz's vulva, and that was a shock - she'd never been touched like that, apart from her last doctor's appointment, and this... was a lot.

She was still clutching at the hem of her skirt, so hard her knuckles were starting to ache. She let her head tilt back, her eyes sliding closed, and then she hissed, when Missy's sharp nails pinched her inner thigh.

"I like to maintain eye contact when I'm popping a cherry," Missy said, her tone sharp. She pressed one of her fingers (nails mercifully shorter) against the entrance of Yaz's pussy, and she swirled it. "I assume that's what I'm doing?"

"I think I popped it a while ago," Yaz said. She hissed, her whole body tensing up as Missy's finger pressed inside of her. 

"Oh, I'm not talking about your hymen," Missy said, her tone airy. She shoved her finger in, all the way to the knuckle, and Yaz clenched around it, gasping. "More your metaphorical cherry. And it's all mine." 

_She sounds like a supervillain_ , said some critical part of Yaz's brain, and then it shut up, because Missy was pushing another finger in now, and she had to just stand there and _breathe_ , taking it all in. 

As it were.

Missy curled her fingers, and her knuckles stretched Yaz open. Yaz stuffed her fist into her mouth to keep down any embarrassing noises, and she rolled her hips forward, grinding against Missy's thumb, which was right against her clit. The fullness was new, but this... this, at least, she had some experience with. Even if it was just solo, experience was experience, right?

And then the bathroom door opened.

Yaz froze, and she made to pull away, but Missy’s hand followed her, stayed inside of her.

“I know you’re in here, Missy,” said a voice, and there was something familiar about it. “I talked to the bartender, she said you came down here with someone at least half your age.” 

“What’s the point of life, if I don’t get to enjoy the fun things in life, and is there anything as fun as fruit fresh off the vine?” Missy twisted her fingers inside of Yaz, and Yaz hissed, covering her mouth with one hand to keep from letting out any embarrassing noises. 

“You sound like a creep,” said the other person. “A total creep.” It was a woman. An older woman. Yaz could just make out the shadow under the door.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Missy asked. Her thumb was circling over Yaz’s clit, and Yaz bit into her knuckles, because Missy’s fingers were pressing into _something_.

“You said you wanted to come here to talk, remember?” The other woman was pacing, her boots loud on the linoleum. “So I came. Although you’ve got someone in there, don’t you? Let her out. This can’t be comfortable, hearing us talk like this.”

“Oh, she’s a bit occupied right now,” Missy said, her tone airy. She gave Yaz’s nipple a tweak, and a little whimper emerged past Yaz’s fist. 

“Missy, you aren’t,” said the woman, and she sounded scandalized.

“You liked it the last time I did this,” Missy said, and now her voice sounded petulant.

_If I was a little less drunk, I feel like I might be mad about this_ , Yaz thought dazedly. _I’m here losing my virginity, and they’re having a lover’s quarrel._ She hissed, as Missy began to ease another finger into her, and Missy winked at her theatrically, and tapped on her clit. 

Yaz’s whole cunt spasmed, and then there were four fingers inside of her, and she hadn’t ever been that full. She was going to be split in half, and she didn’t even care. The room was spinning around her, and she was almost past the point of caring that someone was outside the door as she was taken apart like this. 

“That was… different,” said the woman on the other side of the door. She had stopped pacing, and the door was leaning in a little, presumably where she was leaning on it. “Us agreeing to go out pulling and then having a threesome is a little different.”

“So you didn’t come here to come pulling, then?” Missy’s tone was one of gentle inquiry, as she pinched Yaz’s nipple.

Yaz let out an embarrassing noise, and the woman on the other side of the door let out a long, shaky breath. 

“No,” said the woman. “I came here to talk to you.”

“You’re talking to me, aren’t you?” Missy pinched Yaz’s other nipple, and Yaz’s hips rocked forward, her head tilting back to hit the stall. It made a hollow _thunk_ sound. “Anyway, if you weren’t interested in any hanky panky, we could’ve met in a coffee shop, or at that detestable little cafe you always used to try to drag me to.”

“This is why I don’t like spending time with you,” the woman said. “You just insult me until you get bored.”

“But when I get bored, we have the most _excellent_ sex, don’t we?” Another twist of her fingers, and Yaz gasped, her hips bucking. She was teetering on the very precipice of orgasm. 

“That isn’t the point,” the woman said. She sounded frustrated. “We were going to _talk_ , and you were going to apologize. No sex involved.”

“When was the last time you had sex, darling?” Missy’s fingers were flexing, her knuckles bulging and spreading Yaz open wider. It was all so _much_ , and it was getting harder and harder to muffle her noises. “Good sex, I mean. Not just a little fumble with some Tinder date while you lie back and think of me as a pretty little licks you like she’s trying to eat an ice cream?”

“I haven’t… I mean…” The woman trailed off. “It’s been a while,” she said, and now she sounded sad. 

“I’ve got a pretty little thing right here, y’know,” said Missy. “Just your type, too. You can’t say I don’t know what you like.” Another twist of her fingers sent Yaz shuddering. Her clit was pulsing, and her cunt was shuddering all around Missy’s fingers. She was going to come, she was going to come harder than she’d ever come before.

The woman on the other side of the door took a deep breath. Then she said, very quietly; “is she pretty?” 

“Very pretty,” MIssy assured her. “Why don’t you come in here and see?” 

“I shouldn’t,” said the woman. “This is a horrible idea.” The handle of the door rattled, and Yaz was beginning to shake. She looked at the handle, then at Missy, frowning.

“Be a dear and open that, won’t you?” Missy asked. She clenched and relaxed her fingers again, and Yaz shuddered, curling forward. “My hands are a bit full. 

_And to think, I’d never even kissed a girl before tonight_ , Yaz thought dazedly, as she fumbled the lock open. 

The door swung open, and she looked up into the face of… her physics teacher.

“Yaz?” Doctor Smith - called the Doctor by everyone since “my name is already generic, might as well make it a little more memorable, right?” - stared into Yaz, her eyes wide. She took in Yaz’s unbuttoned dress, her rucked up skirt, the fingers in her exposed cunt.

“Doctor?” Yaz squeaked. She let her skirt drop, and Missy tutted, and wriggled her fingers again, almost as if she was drumming them. They pressed against the sweet spot inside, and the shock of pleasure was almost painful. 

“So you two know each other?” Missy sounded faintly surprised. 

“Missy, that is my… that is my _student_!” The Doctor grabbed Yaz by the arm, and Yaz nearly overbalanced. Missy’s fingers were jostled out of her, and now she was leaning heavily against the Doctor, her bare breasts pressing into the front of the Doctor’s shirt. She clutched at it, to keep from falling over, and she felt the softness of the Doctor’s breasts against her own. The Doctor was wearing a tie, and it was printed with little rocket ships. 

“Is she?” Missy sounded disinterested. 

“She’s _sixteen_ , Missy,” the Doctor hissed, and then she seemed to realize that she was holding Yaz, because she cleared her throat and let go. 

Yaz nearly stumbled, and then she turned, to stare open mouthed at Missy. The older woman was still smiling, holding her wet fingers up. They seemed to glisten in the bathroom light, and that shouldn’t have made Yaz’s cunt clench like that. She was still so, so close to coming. She wasn’t far gone enough to reach between her legs and rub her clit, but it was a near thing. 

“Well, better she ended up with me than some of the creeps up there, then,” said Missy. She was taking a piece of toilet paper off of the roll and wiping her wet fingers, then dropping it in the toilet. “Anyway, you’re one to talk about “coming to talk,” you hypocrite. You’re packing, aren’t you?” 

_I don’t see a suitcase_ , Yaz thought. She probably should have been doing her bra up, instead of watching Missy and the Doctor argue. 

“That’s besides the point,” the Doctor said, although she seemed flustered. 

“Hardly,” said Missy. “You said that you just wanted to talk, and now you’re -”

“I’m not the one who just had my fingers in a sixteen year old!” the Doctor yelled, and it echoed in the bathroom. She seemed to catch hold of herself, and she looked faintly embarrassed. 

“Well, no, but you’ll have your turn, if you’d like,” said Missy. 

Yaz blinked. The Doctor was attractive, and she’d had her fair share of fantasies starring her physics teacher. But she’d had fantasies starring just about every woman she came into contact with on a day to day basis, and that was part of her problem, wasn’t it? She was just a creep, and was it really any wonder that everyone at school picked on her? 

“Look, you’re making her cry,” said Missy, indicating Yaz, and Yaz reached a hand up to dab at her face. There were tears dripping down her face, onto her collarbone. 

“Oh, Yaz,” said the Doctor in a solicitous tone, and she was shrugging out of her blazer, wrapping it around Yaz’s shoulders. “Let’s get you home.” She wrapped an arm around Yaz’s shoulders, and her hand was almost touching Yaz’s bare breast, as she carefully buttoned the coat up. 

“But I’m not done yet,” Missy protested. She put a hand on the Doctor’s arm, and she looked at the Doctor with a wide, open expression. It was the most honest look Yaz had seen cross Missy’s face, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about that. “It could be like old times. Don’t you miss them?”

The Doctor shook Missy’s hand off, and guided Yaz towards the door. “I’ll deal with you later,” she said over her shoulder, and that seemed to be the end of it. 

“But I want to be dealt with now,” Missy called after them, but then they were out in the bar itself, and the sound of the music drowned out anything that Missy might have said. 

* * *

“You’re not off the hook, y’know,” the Doctor said, when the two of them were out of the club. She’d stopped holding on to Yaz, once the girl had made it clear she could walk on her own.

“What?” Yaz blinked at her. She pulled the dark blue blazer a little tighter around herself. The Doctor was wearing a pair of nice slacks, with big, clomping boots. Her shirt was a dark blue, and her braces were a deep, dark yellow. They seemed to glow under the streetlights, and her hair was like a beacon. Yaz followed it, and wondered what it would feel like under her fingers. Missy’s hair had been thick, almost wiry. 

“What were you even _thinking_ , going to a club like that? How were you able to get in?” The Doctor had her hands shoved into her pockets, and she was taking long strides. Yaz was having a bit of trouble keeping up, truth be told. 

“I just… wanted some people who were like me,” Yaz mumbled. Her mouth tasted like kissing and like green apple, and she was thirsty. 

“There are plenty of people like you at school,” the Doctor said. She sighed, and she stopped in front of a small blue car parked on the side of the street, raking her fingers through her hair. “Get in. I’ll drive you home.”

“I don’t want to go home,” Yaz mumbled, which wasn’t entirely true. She did, just… not yet. Not now. Not until she’d sorted everything out in her head. 

“And I don’t want to be taking you home, and yet here we are,” the Doctor snapped, and then she sighed, and rubbed her face. “I’m sorry,” she said, and she sounded genuine as she said it. “I… this is not how I planned my evening.”

“Were you gonna have sex with Missy?” Yaz probably shouldn’t have said that, in retrospect. That was probably inappropriate. But then again, the Doctor had seen Yaz getting fingered by her… ex? Friend with benefits? Wife? 

“I’m not going to talk about that with you,” the Doctor said in a clipped voice. She unlocked the car, and then she opened the passenger door. “Get in.” 

Yaz flopped in, and then she squirmed, as the seat came into contact with her bare bum.”Doctor?” She was still wet, and she was going to soak into the seat, wasn’t she?

“Yes?” The Doctor got in as well, and she closed the door so hard that the whole car shook. 

Yaz looked over, tracing the line of the Doctor’s profile with her eyes. “There isn’t anyone at school like me.” Yaz kept her voice quiet. 

“That’s not true, Yaz,” the Doctor said, and she turned to Yaz. The streetlights cast eerie shadows across the Doctor’s face, and she looked ghoulish for a moment, almost like a Halloween decoration. “There’s loads of other clever, funny, kind -”

“There isn’t anyone else who likes girls,” Yaz interrupted. She sniffed, wiped her face with the sleeve of the jacket. She was crying - she wished she could stop crying. She could almost hear Izzy’s voice in her head, calling her a crybaby, or worse. 

“There are plenty of boys who do,” the Doctor said, with forced cheerfulness in her voice. She turned the car on, and it sputtered, then groaned as she changed gears.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know what I mean,” Yaz said. She hated how petulant she sounded, but she didn’t know how to turn it off.

“I know,” the Doctor said, and she sighed. “I can honestly tell you that you’re not the only one in that respect, either. You’re never the only one.” She backed out of her parking space, and she began to drive. “So. Where’s home?”

“I don’t want to go home yet,” Yaz mumbled.

“I’m going to have to talk to your parents,” the Doctor reminded her. “You can’t just go to clubs like that. Something really bad could happen to you. At least you haven’t been drinking.” She paused. “Have you?”

“Might’ve had… a few,” Yaz murmured. She closed her eyes, her head tilted back against the seat of the car. “I’ll be fine,” she added. “Mum and Dad let me have a sip of theirs sometimes.”

The Doctor sighed. “We are going to have a very, very awkward conversation with your parents,” she told Yaz. 

“Can’t you just… drop me off a few blocks from home? And I can make my own way home.” Yaz squirmed, pressing her thighs together. She was looking at the Doctor’s hands, and the way her fingers spread out on the wheel, and what would those fingers feel like inside of her? They were so _long_ , tapered, and then Yaz remembered what it felt like to have Missy’s fingers inside of her, and she dug her fingernails into her palm. 

“No,” said the Doctor. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “How much did you drink?”

“Like… four,” said Yaz. Was four the right amount? It felt like the right amount. 

“Four what, exactly?” The Doctor sighed. She sounded tired.

“They tasted like… green. But not healthy green.” Yaz made a vague hand motion. 

“Of course,” the Doctor said. She sighed, then she paused. “I don’t know where I’m going,” she added.

“Does anyone?” Yaz asked. She pressed her thighs together, rocking in her seat. She was still… god, she had been _so_ close. “Did you and Missy really used to do that?” 

“I’m not talking about any of this with you,” the Doctor said. 

“‘Cause, like… was it the first time you’d -”

“Yaz,” the doctor said sharply, “you are my _student_. I can’t go into the vagaries of my…” She sighed, stopping at a stop sign, and she pressed her forehead into the steering wheel. She sighed gustily. 

“Your sex life?” Yaz supplied.

“Not talking about that,” the Doctor repeated. Her voice was going a little more high pitched. “If you’re not gonna tell me where you live, we’re gonna have to pull over until you do.” 

“Why do you care so much?” Yaz burst out. “Can’t you just…” She shrugged, made another vague hand motion.

“Yaz,” the Doctor said, “I’m your _teacher_. It’s my job to look out for you.” She put a hand on Yaz’s knee, and it was so warm, with those long, tapering fingers. “Especially…” She cleared her throat. “Well, we’ve got more in common than I thought we did.” She gave Yaz’s knee a squeeze, and then she began to drive again. 

“I don’t wanna go home,” Yaz said, and her voice was quiet, “I don’t want to… tell them. About all of this.” She rubbed her face.

“You’re hardly the first teenager to go out and get drunk,” the Doctor said, not unkindly. 

“They don’t know how bad it is, at school,” Yaz said. She sniffled, and then she was crying. It was loud, ugly crying, and she hated it. She hated how _babyish_ she sounded, the way the Doctor was probably judging her. “I mean, I think they… they might have an…” She started sobbing again, and she was crying hard enough that her nose was starting to run. 

“We don’t have to go straight home,” said the Doctor. She squeezed Yaz’s knee, and then she began to drive again, a little faster now. “We can make a brief detour.”

“Where are we going?” Yaz leaned back in the seat. They were heading towards the edge of town, and she stayed leaning back in the softness of the seat. She was still so _horny_ , her cunt pulsing in time with her heart, wet enough to soak through the seat of her dress. 

“I wanna show you something,” the Doctor said. She was getting the same voice she had when she was especially excited for an experiment in class. “Might put some stuff in perspective.” 

“Oh,” said Yaz. She sniffed. “You must think -”

“I was bullied too, y’know,” said the Doctor. “It’s, uh… it’s how me and Missy met. Back in the day.”

“She was your bully?” Yaz rubbed her eyes. 

“No, she, uh… she stood up for me. With the bullies.” The Doctor cleared her throat. It was hard to tell, in the dim light, but it looked like her ears were starting to turn red. “We were… very close. For a long time. Before we parted, due to irreconcilable differences.”

"What happened?" The Doctor had always seemed fairly... uninterested in any of that kind of stuff. Some of the teachers had husbands or wives, but the Doctor seemed to exist in an odd, completely sexless bubble. 

It was hard to imagine the Doctor as sexless just now. 

"Oh, you know how it is," the Doctor said, and she made a vague hand motion. They were driving up a hill now, outside of town. "You get older, you change." 

"Right," said Yaz. She didn't really know if she agreed with her, but it felt weird not to add anything. 

"You won't be in school for the rest of your life," the Doctor said. "People are a lot nicer, especially to... people like us, once you're an adult." 

_People like us_ , Yaz thought. _I'm like her._ That shouldn't have sent a little shock through her, and yet. "I don't want to wait," Yaz said. 

"I'm sure there are places for people to meet other people like us," said the Doctor.

"I was _in_ one of them," Yaz said, aware of how petulant she sounded. 

"Age appropriate places," the Doctor said. They were at the top of a big hill now, looking down over Sheffield. "But look at that."

Yaz stared down. The lights twinkled, like the world's largest Christmas village. 

"Look how small it is," the Doctor said, her voice quiet. "All those people who give you trouble, all the problems, they're all down there. And we're up here."

They were in a little overlook, and it was dark all around them. It was like they were floating in their own little ball in space. The little lights from the dashboard were reflecting back on the Doctor's face. Then they went out, and the two of them were sitting there in the darkness. 

The car was suddenly too small, too close, and Yaz was beginning to shake. "I... can we go out?" Yaz asked. She fumbled with the door, struggling with her seat belt at the same time. 

"Of course," said the Doctor, and she opened her own door. "Little fresh air will do ya good, I should think."

"Right," said Yaz, and she tried not to think about the wetness smeared across her thighs as she came around to lean against the bonnet of the car.

* * *

The Doctor knew a lot about the stars, because of course she did. Yaz couldn't see many, but she did like sitting on the car bonnet, listening to the Doctor talk. The Doctor sat next to her, and she gestured, going a mile a minute about the Andromeda galaxy, or... something.

"I thought you were a physics teacher," Yaz murmured. In the dimness, the Doctor's braces seemed to stand out, and Yaz could just make out the way they curved over the Doctor's breasts.

"Oh, everything is related," the Doctor said, as enthused as ever. "Can't have astronomy without physics, or biology, or... well, anything."

"Can I ask a question?" Yaz swung her feet, and wriggled her toes. Her hair seemed especially heavy on the back of her neck, and she lifted it up, then let it flop back down, tickling her neck. It sent little goosebumps up and down her back, along her shoulders. 

"Always," the Doctor said. 

"How come you don't, like, wear dresses?" Yaz put her hands down on the hood, and she leaned back, supporting her weight. Her bra was still loose under the Doctor's coat, and her nipples were rubbing against the satin lining. "Or makeup, or any of that."

The Doctor shrugged. "Never felt like it," she said. "Y'don't have to, y'know. If you don't want to."

"Missy said I looked nice," said Yaz. She wasn't sure if Missy had, come to think of it, but it felt like the thing to say. 

"I'm sure she did," the Doctor said. Yaz didn't need to see her teacher's face to know that she was frowning.

"D'you think I look nice?" Yaz reached out, and she put her hand on the Doctor's arm. "Come closer. I'm cold."

"You're not gonna get much warmer from me," the Doctor warned. "I run cold." She scooted closer anyway, and she wrapped an arm around Yaz's shoulders.

Yaz snuggled in, her head on the Doctor's shoulder. "I think there's something wrong with me," she said, and her voice was quiet.

"What makes you think that?" The Doctor sounded genuinely concerned.

"It's.. embarrassing," Yaz mumbled. She squirmed, and she pressed her legs together. The arousal pulsing through her seemed to get that much worse, in proximity like this. 

"I'm hard to shock," the Doctor said easily. "Especially after the business with Missy," she added under her breath, and Yaz had a feeling she wasn't supposed to have heard that. 

"I... I want," Yaz burst out. Her face was getting hot, her _ears_ were getting hot, and her heart was beating loudly in her ears. "I want so badly."

"Everyone wants," said the Doctor, and her tone was still gentle. "That's part of being a person, I think. Wanting things."

"I want..." Yaz licked her lips. She was beginning to shake, and that was unexpected. She hadn't ever... talked about this, come to think of it. She'd always been too embarrassed to admit it, since nobody ever talked about it. 

"Everyone wants things, Yaz," the Doctor repeated. "It's normal."

"I want to kiss girls," Yaz said in a burst, and she pulled back from the Doctor, staring her teacher in the face. She was talking very fast, now. "And... and a lot of other things. Sometimes I see... I see girls, like, at school, or in... in the locker room, or just out and about, and I want to put my mouth on them, or my hands, or -"

"Yaz," the Doctor interrupted, and she put a hand over Yaz's mouth. Her skin was very warm. "That's all perfectly normal. You're at the right age for it, too."

"Nobody else talks about it," Yaz mumbled. She was starting to cry again, more tears dripping down her face. She was getting the Doctor's hand wet, with her breath and her tears. "All the other girls, they talk about wanting to kiss boys, but I... I don't just want to kiss girls. I want to do so many other things." 

The Doctor wiped a tear off of Yaz's face with her thumb, cupping Yaz's cheek. "There's nothing wrong with that," the Doctor said, and her voice was so sweet it made Yaz's chest ache. "You're not the only one who wants those things. I do, too. Plenty of people do.”

"Really?" Yaz sniffed. She didn't want the Doctor to stop touching her - the lights from along the road were far enough away that they were in shadow, but she could still make out the shadows where the Doctor's eyes were. 

"I probably shouldn't be telling you this," the Doctor said, "but tonight has been... inappropriate enough." She sighed, and she let go of Yaz's face. "It's perfectly normal to want... physical things with women." 

Yaz wasn’t thinking when she leaned forward. She’d only ever kissed Jason McGillan before Missy, and she missed the Doctor’s mouth at first. She had to lean a little further forward, and now her hands were on the Doctor’s shoulders, trying to press her tongue into the Doctor’s mouth. She remembered kissing Missy, and she tried to kiss like Missy, all power and seduction. She didn’t know if she’d _succeed_ , but she was kissing the Doctor, and the Doctor’s hands were on the back of her head, tugging on her hair. She could _feel_ the Doctor melting into the kiss… and then she pulled back, and Yaz could almost make out the Doctor’s horrified expression. 

“Yaz, I can’t do that with you,” the Doctor said, and her voice was rough. “You’re my student.” 

“I want you so badly, Doctor,” Yaz murmured, and she hadn’t realized just how much she meant it. Did she want the Doctor, specifically? Did she just want to kiss a _woman_ , more than anything else? She didn’t know, and she didn’t want to look too closely at it. She moved her hands to the Doctor’s shoulders, then grabbed at the Doctor’s braces, pulling the other woman closer to her. 

“You just think you do,” the Doctor said. Her breath was coming very fast. 

Yaz brought her hand up to press against the Doctor’s chest, and she could feel the other woman’s heart racing. It was going so fast it was almost like there were two of them, and then she moved her hand lower, to curve around the Doctor’s breast.

The Doctor grabbed her wrist, tugged it away. “I can’t do this with you, Yaz,” the Doctor said. Her voice was shaky. She was holding very tightly to Yaz’s wrist - there might be bruises the next day. “I’m too old for you.”

“Missy looks older than you are, and she did it with me,” Yaz pointed out. “She did more than that, and she was…” Yaz shuddered, remembering Missy’s fingers plunging into her. “She was amazing.”

“She’s not that good,” the Doctor said, and then she cleared her throat. “What Missy did is illegal,” she added, her tone firm. “I remember being a teenager and the blood being hot in my veins, but -”

“So all of this is normal? Just wanting to get _fucked_?” The word felt juicy, coming out of Yaz’s mouth, and she was faintly shocked at herself.

“It’s normal to want physical intimacy, yes,” said the Doctor. “I’m sure you can go home and... take care of yourself.” She was still trembling. 

“Is that what you do?” Yaz asked. “I know Missy said -”

“Missy says a lot of things,” said the Doctor, interrupting Yaz. “That doesn’t mean they’re true.”

“Are you lonely?” Yaz asked. “Because I’m lonely. I’m… I’m so lonely.” She was starting to shake again, shake so hard that her teeth were starting to chatter, and the Doctor made a concerned noise, pulling her closer. 

The two of them were belly to belly, breast to breast. Yaz could feel the Doctor’s heart beating against her chest, a desperate staccato beat. 

“I’m sorry you’re lonely,” the Doctor said quietly. Her voice vibrated against Yaz’s, ticklish even through the coat, through her shirt. “It’s a horrible thing, to be lonely.”

“I think you are,” Yaz said. “I’m sorry you’re lonely, too.” 

The Doctor sighed, and it was a long, deep noise. Her hand skimmed up Yaz’s side, and seemed to hover over Yaz’s cheek for a moment, before resting there, feather light. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” she said, and her voice sounded so _sad_ that it broke Yaz’s heart. 

Yaz didn’t answer. She leaned forward, and she kissed the Doctor again. She didn’t try to kiss like Missy this time, just pressed her lips against the Doctor’s, let her tongue trace the seam of the Doctor’s lips. 

The Doctor’s mouth opened, and she took Yaz’s tongue into her mouth. She cradled Yaz’s face, and then one hand went to the back of Yaz’s head, sinking into the curly hair at the base of Yaz’s skull. The Doctor kissed her sweet and soft, and it was a little bit like melting. Yaz sighed and moaned into the kiss, and she was tangentially aware of the way her tears were getting on the Doctor’s face. The Doctor sighed into the kiss, a rush of warm air across Yaz’s face. When they pulled apart to breathe, the Doctor was shaking, clutching at Yaz’s shoulders. 

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” the Doctor said, but her hands were going to the buttons of the coat Yaz was wearing, and her hands were shaking as she eased them open. Her hands were very warm, when they found Yaz’s breasts, holding them in her hands as if she was weighing them.

“I want it,” Yaz said, and her voice was rough. She shivered, as the cool air washed over her nipples, across her collarbone. “Please. I want it. So badly, I’ve never wanted anything more.” 

“That’s not true,” the Doctor murmured. She was shifting, and then she was… off of the car, and she was grabbing Yaz by the hips, pulling her closer to the bumper. She was bracketed by Yaz’s knees, and she was standing between Yaz’s knees. “It’s not true, and this is wrong, but…” She pressed herself closer to Yaz, and then she was pushing Yaz back onto the bonnet. “I’ll take care of you,” she said, and there was an anxious, almost manic tone to her voice. “I’ll take good care of you, Yaz.”

“Of course,” Yaz murmured. “You’ll take good care of me, Doctor. I trust you.” She was staring up at the sky, at the way the stars glittered down at them. She licked her lips and tasted the Doctor’s own mouth, tasted green apple. She sighed, squirming, as the Doctor kissed down her throat, pushing the coat down.

“You’re so gorgeous, Yaz,” the Doctor murmured. “I’ve always thought so, but I can’t… I obviously can’t say anything, but… I’m…” She sighed, and her mouth was hot against Yaz’s skin, hot and wet. She had her face pressed between Yaz’s breasts, holding the both of them in her hands. She kneaded them, her palm pressing into Yaz’s nipples, and Yaz squirmed, grinding her hips forward. Her skirt was riding up her thighs, and the Doctor’s trousers were smooth against her bare calves. 

“So are you,” Yaz said, and lying flat like this, everything seemed to be rolling, slightly. It was like being on a boat at sea, and she sighed and gasped as the Doctor’s mouth found her nipple, tongue swirling around the tip of it. 

It was different from Missy, although Yaz couldn’t put her finger on how, exactly. She spread her legs a little wider, and she rolled her hips up, letting herself drown in the sensations. She was panting, and every breath of air was cold, filling her lungs up like water, but breathable. She let her fingers tangle in the Doctor’s blond hair, as the Doctor kissed lower. Her breath was ticklish against Yaz’s belly, and her hair was sending little jerking tendrils of arousal under Yaz’s skin. She kissed all the way to the last unbuttoned button, then pressed a kiss under Yaz’s navel, through the thin fabric of the dress. Then, somehow, the Doctor was on the ground now, and when had that happened? She had lifted Yaz’s knees up, onto her shoulders. 

Yaz was beginning to feel a bit like she was losing time - things would happen, and then something else would happen, seemingly unrelated. She kept jumping ahead, but she couldn’t find it in her to care, when the Doctor was pushing her skirt up, and her hot breath was ticklish across Yaz’s pubic hair. 

“Did you go out not wearing knickers?” The Doctor sounded faintly scandalized. Her thumbs were rubbing soothing little circles in the crease of her thighs. 

“Missy took ‘em,” Yaz murmured. The Doctor was _almost_ touching her where she wanted to. Close enough that it was making her mad. “She did a lot of stuff.” 

“Did Missy do _this_?” There was an almost… challenging note in the Doctor’s voice, and that was a surprise. 

Yaz blinked, looking down the line of her own body at the Doctor. She almost squealed at the first touch of the Doctor’s tongue, and then she went limp, as it slipped between her labia, then circled over her clit. She gasped, her heels digging into the Doctor’s back, and her hips jerked forward. The arousal that had been fading - gradually - came back, stronger than before. She covered her mouth with one hand to keep from making any embarrassing noises, and she gasped and moaned into her own palm as the Doctor licked her, tongue sliding inside of her, then swirling along her clit. 

The Doctor was making wet noises with her mouth, and Yaz could hear the cars driving by, on the other side of the trees. She was on the very brink of her orgasm already, and she didn’t want to come yet, she wanted to stay here, suspended forever, about to come, with a beautiful woman between her legs. She was remembering the Doctor’s hands on the steering wheel, the Doctor’s mouth as she talked excitedly in class, and then the Doctor’s finger was sliding inside of her, and it was even better than she’d imagined. 

The Doctor’s finger curled inside of her, and Yaz’s hips rolled forward, panting harder. The car’s bonnet was warming up from her own body heat, and her skin was slippery with sweat. She was full on humping the Doctor’s face now, her hands in the Doctor’s hair. She was tugging on it, harder and harder, but the Doctor wasn’t complaining, she was just moaning. She was sucking and licking, doing _something_ with her tongue and her finger that Yaz didn’t know how to describe, except that it was filling her up. 

Yaz came, her orgasm washing over her like a wave, and her cunt clenched, _pulsed_ like a star. She dug her teeth into her hand to keep from making any more embarrassing noises, and then she went utterly limp. She was still twitching around the Doctor’s fingers, little aftershocks that left her whimpering. 

“Y’didn’t answer my question, y’know,” the Doctor said, and she pressed a kiss to Yaz’s inner thigh. She nuzzled, then began to suck, hard enough that Yaz hissed. It stung, but… that was nice, too. Her oversensitive cunt clenched around the Doctors’ finger, and she whined as the Doctor pulled it out. 

“Question?” Yaz attempted to sit up, and then she flopped back down. It _thumped_ , and the Doctor winced. 

“We… are very out in the open,” the Doctor murmured, and she looked around nervously. “We should…” She cleared her throat. “I should take you home.” 

“I didn’t.. I didn’t do anything. For you.” Yaz cleared her throat. “And no.”

The Doctor paused, and she frowned. “What?” 

“No. Missy didn’t… didn’t do that.” Yaz licked her lips, and she sat up, looking down at the Doctor. She tugged on the Doctor’s hair, to pull her upright, and the Doctor let herself be pulled up. She pressed her forehead against Yaz’s, and her breath was musky and thick against Yaz’s face. 

“I should take you home,” the Doctor repeated. She was trembling, and Yaz combed her fingers through the Doctor’s sweaty hair. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m… sorry.”

“No,” Yaz said, “no, no, don’t be sorry.” She kissed the Doctor again, wetter and deeper, and her hands moved down, awkwardly groping the Doctor over her shirt. She could feel the Doctor’s hard nipple, and more of the Doctor’s desperately beating heart. “I… that was the best thing ever. Thank you. Please. I want to… I want to return the favor.”

“I shouldn’t have done that,” the Doctor repeated. “And I shouldn’t… I can’t let you do that to me. I’ve already gone too far.” She kissed Yaz again, and there was some kind of desperation in the way her tongue slid into Yaz’s mouth, and the way her hands moved desperately across Yaz’s chest, her backs. She pulled back, pressed another little kiss to Yaz’s lips, then another deep one. 

“We could… go back in the car,” Yaz said. “I’ll… I’ll get in the back seat, and if you don’t want to… y’know, if you don’t want to join me, you don’t have to. I’ll tell you how to get back home. To my home, I mean. I don’t know how to get to your home.”

The Doctor snorted, and she combed Yaz’s hair back from her face. “Are you trying to seduce me?” She sounded sad, and Yaz leaned forward, clumsily kissing along her jaw. She liked the way the Doctor moaned, especially when she began to suck on the spot directly below one ear. The Doctor moaned, and she clutched at Yaz, shaking harder.

Yaz tasted pennies, and then she pulled back with a “pop,” moving up to trace along the shell of the Doctor’s ear with the tip of her tongue. “Shouldn’t I be calling _you_ Mrs. Robinson?” Yaz teased. 

The Doctor froze, and Yaz was entirely too drunk to deal with.. Whatever this was. She just wanted more orgasms, both giving and receiving. “I’m going into the back seat,” she told the Doctor, and she was only wobbling a little bit. She opened the back door, and she closed it carefully, settling herself back. The coat was flapping open around her, and her dress was still open. She’d have to close it, before she got home. 

The door shook when the Doctor opened it, and then Yaz was being crowded into the corner. The Doctor was leaning against her, and then she was being kissed again. She wasn’t even thinking as she scrambled into the Doctor’s lap, straddling her - she was just kissing. The whole world was the Doctor’s soft lips, the Doctor’s hot breath, the Doctor’s soft hands on her back. The coat was being pushed off of her shoulders, and so was the dress, the bra. She was topless, and her head was at an awkward angle in the small space of the car. 

The Doctor leaned back, panting, and she tilted her head back. Her chest was rising and falling, and Yaz pushed her braces down, fingers fumbling at the buttons of the Doctor’s shirt. 

The Doctor didn’t stop her, but her eyes would occasionally catch the light, and it was hard to read whatever it was her face was doing. She shivered, when Yaz’s hands rested on her breasts through her bra, and then she covered Yaz’s hands with her own, and moved them to her shoulders. 

Yaz whined, and she squirmed in the Doctor’s lap. She was still wet, still keyed up, and grinding against the bulge under her was _good_.

Wait. 

“Doctor?” 

“Mm?” The Doctor kissed Yaz’s knuckles, then the palm of Yaz’s hand. 

“What, uh…” Yaz cleared her throat, reached between the two of them, and she pressed down on the bulge. It was solid, but a little bit squishy. “Is this…?”

“Not mine,” the Doctor said, and then she cleared her throat, clearly flustered. “Well, no, it’s mine, but… it’s not… organically attached to me.” 

“Why are you wearing it?” Yaz pressed down again, and the Doctor hissed. She squirmed, and her hips rolled back.

Yaz liked it, liked knowing that _she_ was the one who was bringing about that reaction. She stroked it awkwardly, the way she’d seen people rub hard ons in some videos. 

“I thought I was gonna use it tonight,” the Doctor said. “It’s… a thing I like. A thing I enjoy. And Missy likes it too.”

“You were gonna fuck Missy,” said Yaz. She was beginning to get even dizzier, and she leaned harder on the Doctor, her breasts in the Doctor’s face. The Doctor’s breath was humid against her skin, and it left her squirming some more.

“I was thinking I might make a bad decision, yeah,” the Doctor said, and then she laughed humorously. “Didn’t see it being quite _this_ bad.”

“Can I see it?” Yaz blurted out. She wasn’t sure why she’d said that. She didn’t like being thought of as a bad decision. 

The Doctor made a thoughtful sound, and then she nudged at Yaz’s hips. “Scoot back,” she said. “I need to…” She cleared her throat, as Yaz wriggled back, until she was balancing awkwardly on the Doctor’s knees, the front seat pressing into her back. 

The Doctor unbuttoned her trousers, and then she was reaching down, into her trousers. She fumbled with… something, and then she sighed, as the dildo sprang forward. 

“Oh,” said Yaz, her voice thick. “Wow.” The dildo was blue, and it seemed to have some kind of sparkle that caught the light, like a piece of mica. “That’s big.”

“I’ve got bigger,” the Doctor said, and she wrapped a loose hand around it, the way Yaz had seen boys do in some of the pornos she’d watched. “Always been a collector of oddities, me.” 

Yaz wrapped her hand around the head of the dildo, over the Doctor’s own hand, and she pressed it down against the Doctor’s crotch. The Doctor squirmed against her, and she moaned, a long, low sound. She sighed, as Yaz gave it a little twist, and she let go. 

“I want to… I mean, it’d be a shame if you didn’t use it,” Yaz said. She was trying to sound seductive again, although she wasn’t sure if she was succeeding. Her head was beginning to hurt, just a little, and she wanted some kind of distraction. Or maybe she was just reckless, because so many _other_ ridiculous things had been going on. So why not this? 

“D’you want me to use it on you?” The Doctor asked, and her tone was flat. _Did you finish your test? Did you try reversing the polarity? Do you have a hall pass?_

“Yes, please,” Yaz said, faster than she probably should have. 

“Have you…” The Doctor licked her lips, and the sound was very loud in the small space. “Have you had anything in you? Other than… fingers, I mean.”

“I only had fingers in me today,” Yaz said hopefully. “Never anything before that.”

The Doctor sighed, and her fingers were shaking as she tucked a piece of hair behind Yaz’s ear. “Of course,” she said, and she shivered. “Of course you were a virgin.” Her hand slid along Yaz’s bare side, over Yaz’s ribs, and it sent a ripple of goosebumps all across Yaz’s back, her nipples getting harder and her thighs going tight. “This is a bad idea,” she said, and she made to pull away.

“No, please,” Yaz said. She wasn’t thinking, when she scooted forward, but it drew the shaft of the toy against her cunt, and she hissed through her teeth. The pressure was _good_ , and the shocked look on the Doctor’s face was equally good. It sent a desperate little twinge through her whole body. “I… I want it. I want it, so badly.”

“You just think you want it,” said the Doctor. “I’m sure there’s someone your own age -”

“There isn’t,” Yaz cut in. “There isn’t anyone my own age. Not… not that I’d be interested in. Not like I’m interested in like I’m interested in you. Like I _want_ you.” She pressed even closer, and she hissed, as the head of the strap on pressed against her clit. 

“So I’m what you’re going for, because I’m all that’s available, eh?” The Doctor’s tone had turned downright… dark, and it made Yaz’s stomach twist up in knots. “I didn’t think I’d betray my own morals for - _oh_.” 

Yaz hadn’t been thinking, when she grabbed the toy. She’d been acting on impulse the whole night, and so far it had served her pretty well, right? The Doctor seemed stunned into silence, which was a rare thing, and then Yaz was just… sinking down onto it. 

“Oh,” the Doctor said, and her voice was thick. “Yaz, that’s… that’s not a good idea.” She was holding on to Yaz’s hips, and she wasn’t pulling Yaz off. 

The toy stretched her open, and as she settled onto it her cunt fluttered around it, unused to such a large intrusion. She hissed - there was a bit of a sting - and she pressed her forehead against the top of the Doctor’s head. The hair was sweaty, and smelled faintly like the Doctor’s shampoo - something sharp, musky. 

“You need… _fuck_.” The Doctor threw her head back, and there was the expanse of her throat. And there was the purple hickey that Yaz had accidentally given her, dark purple and pretty high up.

Oops.

“Can you… can you feel me?” Yaz rolled her hips experimentally, the way she’d seen girls do in pornos, and the Doctor hissed, her own hips rocking forward. 

“You’re pushing the toy against me,” the Doctor said through gritted teeth. “I can’t… _feel_ you like an organic cock, but I can still… _fuck_ , Yaz.” The Doctor was holding tight to Yaz’s hips, hard enough to bruise. 

They didn’t say anything, for a little while. Yaz was still adjusting to the thing inside of her, occasionally squirming or rocking. She whimpered when the Doctor’s hot, wet mouth made its way along the line of her jaw, then down her throat, mouthing at her shoulder. The Doctor ‘s hands went to her sides now, holding her in place, and she was rolling her hips up, gently. 

It wasn’t how Yaz had imagined sex would be - for one thing, she’d always seen herself losing her virginity in a bed, instead of in the back seat of a car. Her neck was going to be sore, and she hadn’t realized how _wet_ it would be, or how loud. She realized, with some surprise, that the moaning must have been coming out of _her_ mouth, since the Doctor’s mouth was on her clavicle, then moving lower, to the side of her breast. 

The Doctor’s mouth enveloped her nipple, and one of the Doctor’s fingers found her clit, and was rubbing it carefully, sending little sparks up and down Yaz’s back. She was shaking around the toy, and each pull of the Doctor’s mouth on her nipple seemed to be adding to the building pressure.

Yaz clutched at the Doctor’s hair, keeping the Doctor’s mouth in place. She was holding on so tightly that her fingers were starting to ache, and her knees were starting to ache. She was sweating down her back, and the Doctor’s fingers were slipping in it, then gripping her tighter. She yanked on the Doctor’s hair. 

The Doctor’s teeth dug into Yaz’s nipple, and Yaz squealed. It was _loud_ in the small space. The Doctor let go, and her head was thrown back. Her mouth was open, and her whole body seemed to be on edge. When Yaz pulled her hair again, the Doctor gasped, and then her whole face went open, and her chest heaved.  
_She’s having an orgasm_ , Yaz thought, and she watched, entranced. The Doctor’s face was just as animated as when she was talking about physics, or astronomy, or any of her other myria passions. Then she cracked her eyes open, to look up at Yaz. 

“Well,” the Doctor said, and her voice cracked. “That were embarrassing.” 

“Did you just…” Yaz cleared her throat. “I mean, um. That’s the whole point of what we’re doing, but…”

“It’s not the point,” the Doctor said. “There’s so much more to sex than orgasms.” Then her face fell. “Although I shouldn’t be having sex with you in the first place,” she added, and then she was lifting Yaz up by the hips, shoving her onto the seat of the car and pushing her as flat as she could go.

“Please, I don’t want you to _stop_ ,” Yaz whined, and she hated that she was whining. She hated the way her stomach jumped at the rough handling as well - part arousal, part queasiness. 

“I should,” the Doctor said roughly. She grabbed one of Yaz’s legs, pushing it into the space between the two seats, and she crawled between Yaz’s open thighs. “God help me, I should.” She almost sounded like she was going to start crying, as she shuffled forward. 

_I should tell her to stop, if she’s so unhappy with all of this_ , Yaz thought dazedly, and then she gasped, as the bulbous head of the toy slid into her. It was different, from this angle. It didn’t seem to go as deep, but she didn’t have _any_ control of the depth, or how fast it was. 

The Doctor was all the way inside, and she was grinding her hips, gently. It was pressing against Yaz’s clit, and the combination of the pressure, the fullness, and the way the Doctor was looking up at her seemed to add up to the desperation inside. She couldn’t even roll her hips from this angle, not really - all she could do was clutch at the Doctor’s shoulders, her back, and _take_ it. 

“Wanted this for so long,” the Doctor whispered into Yaz’s ear, and she was holding on so tightly. “Dreamed of this, never… I shouldn’t have…” She was thrusting hard enough to make Yaz’s breasts jiggle, and the car seemed to be moving, just a little. “This is _wrong_ ,” the Doctor gasped, and then she kissed Yaz, a deep, wet kiss. 

The strap on seemed to be hitting something inside of Yaz that was making fireworks go off behind her eyes. Whatever it was that had been building finally crested, and she cried out into the Doctor’s mouth as she came, pulsing and throbbing around the toy inside of her. The pleasure raced along her nerves, and it left her wrung out and panting, sticky and sore. 

“Good ‘un?” The Doctor sat herself up on her elbows, and she looked down at Yaz with wide eyes. “You thrashed about.”

“I… fuck,” Yaz said, and her voice cracked. “That was…” 

The Doctor looked faintly smug, and then guilty, and then smug again. “Not half bad, eh?” She cupped Yaz’s cheek, her thumb on Yaz’s lower lip. “Better ‘n Missy?”

“Definitely,” Yaz said thickly. She lifted an arm up (it felt like overcooked pasta), and she ran her fingers through the Doctor’s mussed hair. “You’re _amazing_ with that thing.” 

“I’ve got some practice,” the Doctor said. She sighed, tracing the line of Yaz’s profile, from her forehead down to her chin. “You know we can’t ever do this again, right?” Her tone was gentle. “We shouldn’t have done it in the first place.”

“Yeah, but… I won’t tell anyone,” said Yaz. “I promise.” 

“You say that,” said the Doctor, “but…” She trailed off.

“If you’re worried about me telling my mates or anything like that,” Yaz said, “you don’t have to worry.”

“Because you don’t tell anyone anything?” The Doctor sounded faintly amused.

“I don’t have any mates,” Yaz said. That was… more candid than she was used to being, but was there ever a better time to be candid than when her own slick was drying on her thighs?

“Ah,” said the Doctor. She didn’t seem to know how to react to that, so she just brushed more hair off of Yaz’s forehead. “I’ll be havin’ that fake ID,” she added, as an afterthought. The two of them were still pressed close together, so close that Yaz could feel the desperate thrum of the Doctor’s heartbeat. “You can make too many bad decisions with that thing.” 

“I think it led to the best decision of my life,” Yaz said, in another burst of drunk, post-coital earnestness. She wondered what the Doctor had meant, about how long she’d wanted this. It felt like there was something complicated behind that, and Yaz didn’t think she was in the right frame of mind to examine that. 

“I was afraid you’d say that,” the Doctor said, but she didn’t sound angry. She was looking down at Yaz with a tender expression, and Yaz’s heart skipped a beat.


End file.
